The Power of Forgetting (13 page)

And there it
is…. like a still window in the middle of a storm cycle the surface
like water on a pond, undulating with the slightest of slight
ripples. There is no colour, for it is transparent and the rocks
and grass are visible behind it; except there is the occasional
flicker of colour in the light as of the surface of a soap bubble.
It is like bubbles from one of those children’s toys, where you
blow through a little plastic hoop. A slight simmer distorted the
surface then and I see the background move like heat haze. The
edges of this globelike glass window in space swirl with more
movement of opalescent purples that in ripples and swirls obscure
but do not completely erase the background behind the space.

I cannot speak.
I cannot think. I cannot find anything to describe the attraction
forward into myself of the desire that grips my heart and mind. I
suddenly don’t care if it’s been put there by the Bank Collective.
I want to be seduced by the light at its centre, and the stillness
in its soul. I want to step through.

I find myself
stood leaning forward; Leo is holding my arms from behind. I had
stepped towards this doorway and was pressing against the tapes. He
doesn’t pull me back. He just stands unmoveable until I stop trying
to walk forward. I blink a couple of times. Janey taps the back of
my hand with the biro she is holding. This seems to break the
spell. I take a step back. Leo lets go of one arm. I breathe
slowly, feeling that energy burning at the edge of my mind.

‘George is
coming.’ Janey says, ‘we can go back up to the tent.’

I sat down on a
camping chair while they all listen to Jules and Janey explain what
has been happening. Kyle and Sam dispense Tea and biscuits. I
wonder if George is alright. But we have some other people here who
I don’t recognise. They are either military or something secret and
hush-hush. Leo nods to one of them. I relax slightly. I try to
follow what is being said. Most of it seems obvious to me. I
suppose I’m being annoying. Ellen is watching me. I don’t respond
when Jules asks if there are any questions.

‘Jared?’

‘What?’

‘Anything you
wish to say?’

‘Where’s
Davey?’ I asked them.

Jules frowns,
as if he just completed an equation in his head, ‘He’s in the
cooking area. We have one of Dieter’s people here. Their cook, I
think there are eggs involved somewhere.’

‘Lunch is at
one.’ Janey says in her loud, I’m-in-charge voice. I shrink into
the chair even more. This is one of those days where nothing will
convince me that things are going to get any better than they have
already. The best bit has happened, and I’m waiting to go home. I
want to smoke now. I get up and stumble out without looking at
anyone.

A few minutes
later, I’m found by Dieter. He’s not someone you would ever
disagree with if you want to keep both arms attached to your body.
He has a Nordic solidity with fine blond hair and very pale eyes.
He was the one who has backed Aiden and George and all the good
guys. He doesn’t say a lot. He just makes his presence felt. If he
was a Viking warrior he’d be the champion of champions, and would
carry an enormous axe. He just stares at me until I’m forced to
return his gaze.

‘I suppose I
shouldn’t wander off.’ I say lightly.

‘No,’ he says
in a low voice, then ‘Yes.’ Higher and lighter and shrugs
dismissive of everything and everyone else.

‘Why do you get
involved with all this?’ I ask him.

‘It is not the
question you want to answer.’ he said.

‘You’re right….
it’s not.’ I light a sobrane and take in that familiar deep taste
and roll out that cloud of fragrant leaf that everyone remembers me
for.

‘You smoke too
much.’ Dieter says, and then adds: ‘I know who wants to get their
hands on you. And this is not going to help you.’

‘Rimmington.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘August….
Charles…. he murdered someone and got away with it.’

‘I’ve heard
that name before!’ I am now paying attention.

‘Yes. But don’t
rely on your sources. There is a lot of misinformation flying
around.’

‘How?’

‘Look inside
you own family. See for yourself.’

‘You mean
Janey?’

‘Your little
sister?’ Dieter looks back towards the tent, ‘No. she is not the
one. You are more in danger from someone closer than that.’

‘Who? Tell
me.’

‘I will only
tell you when you are about to go today. Then you will have to
think about what you are going to say…’

‘Or do.’ I
add.

‘I would not
consider doing anything.’

‘Oh?’

‘You need to be
wise Jared.’

‘I’m not
though.’

‘Ah! They said
you are stubborn, and unwilling to take direction. I watch all your
backs now.’

‘What is going
on Dieter?!’ I asked suddenly impassioned, my nerve is breaking and
I want to run back home to the house.

‘There is only
one experiment. There is only one. Do you understand?’

‘I think so.’ I
said, as Dieter stands impassively regarding the afternoon scene
and the slightly damp rocks on the little path near our feet.

‘You wish to
ask something?’ Dieter faces me.

‘Yes.’ I say,
‘there is something. Am I alive at the end of the experiment?’

‘I think……Yes.’
Dieter’s expression barely flickers. But the voice is full and
expressive. He is an excellent poker player; because of the
unreadability of this face.

‘Where will
tell me?’

‘The map
tent.’

‘I’ll be there
before we go back.’

I lurk near the
small table. Janey and Davey are standing a little way from me.
They are laughing and in good spirits. I haven’t seen Marcia for
the last twenty minutes and it’s beginning to distress me. She’s
has been having what I would regard as an extended conference with
Ellen Lee. Aiden comes into the map tent then and puts a box
down.

‘Samples?’ I
asked.

‘No. supplies.
Do want more coffee?’

‘Not until I’m
in a safe environment. Is anyone here at night?’

‘No.’ Aiden
Looks worried, ‘We need to close it off pretty soon.’

‘Shut the
door?’

‘Yes. It’s
really quite simple.’

‘To do
that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can it be
opened again?’

‘I don’t think
so.’

‘Aren’t you a
little suspicious of how they work?’

‘The
doors?’

‘Yes.’

‘I know what
you want Jared. And I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘How can you
possibly know what I want?’ I shift my weight from one foot to the
other and back again.

Aiden smiles
and hands me a small envelope, ‘Do you think I don’t know you; old
friend?’ he indicates the envelope, ‘You should look at these.
Taken yesterday. There is a fluctuation in the field. It seems to
happen every third day.’

‘I guess today
isn’t it?’

‘Of course not.
Do you think I’d let you anywhere near it, if that was
happening?’

‘You do know me
then.’ I faced him and pulled the pictures out he had just given
me. They were well composed; Jules must have taken them. There was
a sense of precision. The colour was well balanced and the patterns
and bands of colour were strong and implied an animation of the
door way that was more intense than the state of the anomaly as I
had already seen it.

‘You are
showing me this because….?’

‘I want you to
give me your professional opinion.’

‘About
these?’

‘Well…. we did
go through a doorway before. Is it of the same kind?’

He must have
seen the confusion in my face. I hastily put the prints back into
the envelope.

‘You don’t
remember?’ Aiden seems surprized. Perhaps even shocked. I shake my
head.

‘I thought….
I’m having a difficult time…. I was alone, wasn’t I?’

‘When you first
arrived in Sandglass? Yes.’

I put my hand
to my fore head. Clammy. There is something wrong. I want to go
back to my parents’ house.

‘I’ll just….’ I
point to the door.

‘Get some air.’
Aiden seems to know what is happening now.

I walk back
down the slope. The light is going. I can’t remember. I want to see
what I was. What I did. I’m grabbing at the edges of my own
identity. I don’t know what I can do to bring back what has been
lost. You are lying to yourself, if you think that you can retain
everything you are, when you don’t remember. But then…. perhaps I
have it all backwards. There is an idea trickling; I want to hold
it back. Denial. I know why we are in this mess. I suddenly don’t
want to remember. Because then I think that perhaps it is me…. that
traitor in our midst. If it wasn’t Janey; then it has to be me.
That is why they wanted to kill me. That is why I was dying in a
hospital. That other version with a thin layer of reality between.
I was rinsed clean. Tumbled dried of all the information. Bu there
is one think that I am sure I didn’t tell. Because even I am not
sure if it is true. About my mother. She is carrying a secret that
I have long suspected.

I reach the
tapes. The light is going. I felt an ache. The tattoo. I push my
sleeve up. What does this mean? The earth cries to me…. I press my
right toe into the earth. Reddish and damp. I want to go past the
tapes. I want to touch the edge of this thing. Am I the reason all
this is happening? Or is this just ego? August Charles…. that name.
I know it. Hanson named him. The list of the “Circle of Five”. But
is it true? I know that Andrew Hanson believes it to be true. But
has he been duped into telling me this, so that I get
misinformation and follow it through mistakenly. I need a good
detective. With a sudden start of shock, I remember Morel. The
detective. Perhaps that is why he is here. Karis is the only person
I can actually trust. I need to trust her now. I need to believe
that this nightmare will end. Is Dieter right? There is only one
experiment. Why am I in it?

There is a
slight sound. The light is going. But it is just the wind in the
trees. I must have been here for at least twenty minutes. No one
has come looking for me yet. I wonder why.

Slowly I kneel
down onto the red earth. Something is puzzling me. Why here? It
makes no sense at all. You would hide something like this. Behind a
rock. into a place out of sight. This is exposed. It is like a
stage set. But then again. Maybe it is here because it is the only
place that it would work. The earth has a lot of iron in it. There
is a magnetic field. I realise I can feel the pulse of the doorway,
like the beating of a giant heart. it is as if it is alive. What am
I to do? I press my hand into the soft pliant mud. There is an
impression. A sensual thing…. like the touch of a loved one. A
place and a calmness. I look up and see the vibration of the
anomaly slow and still and then stop completely. It doesn’t move. A
fragile glass sculpture; Or an ice carving in this forest glade. I
can see something else. Beneath the globe of the glassy heart,
there are foot prints. There appear to be at least three pairs of
impression in the mud. The one I notice the most clearly appears to
be a woman’s boot. There are two others that overlap. Size twelve’s
and indeterminate one that could be of either sex. Perhaps a dress
shoe?

I dip under the
tapes and step forward. I take one step and another. The light is
going now. And it seems that this door way is quiescent and
unresponsive. I reach out with my fingertips. I want to touch the
edge of this this. The impression I am getting is of something
cool, but with flashes of warmth. Grass…. burned or heated by the
sun. And coolness. Shady plants perhaps; or cool caves?

My hands touch
this glass. It is smooth like a wonderful giant pebble. And little
rainbow lights of transparencies shimmer in the half light. I feel
quite peaceful. I want to drive deeper in. there is an inner
euphoric edge to the sensation being passed through my fingers. I
run my hands over it. There is a coolness flowing down my arms. As
if water is flowing into my mind. Still water. I can hear the sound
of bird song. My breath is shallower and swifter. I want to go. I
want to take that journey. I dream of that place in my secret
heart. |I told no one. Not even Marcia. After the waterfall. I was
waiting by those cliffs and then there was the path through. And
there was a path open to the other side. Yet from a distance I
thought someone was coming towards me. I thought they wanted me to
walk back. But they stayed at a distance in my vision. But then
another spoke to me. She was tall and sad. But perhaps it was how I
was feeling. I told her I wanted to die. But she said that my time
had not yet run. And that I had something I must do first. How do
we know what we feel? I thought I was already done for. And it
would be easier to slip away, that wait to choke to the last breath
as my body betrayed me and started to shut down. Yet here I was. I
had not admitted it to anyone. Not even Violette. If I said I was
suicidal she would have treated me quite differently. And I thought
that these were fair reactions considering the circumstances at the
time. What I didn’t expect was that seduction of death. That
attraction of the mortal end. I hadn’t counted on this strange
desire to follow me back here. I felt quite calm. And it was like a
relief to admit it. If only to myself. Just because I choose to not
do; Did not mean that I did not want to. Nothing messy, nothing
offensive. Before it was just letting go. It was my wandering
spirit that had walked the ice fields. Now…. I was back to full
capacity. Perhaps almost full…. And still it deepened a track
inside my soul. I didn’t think of right and wrong. Or of modern
conclusions about a person’s psychology. I just knew I was an
anomaly all of my own. A paradox. And striving with myself; for
here the question had no meaning. It felt so beautiful. There was
the silver of my flowers. That rainbow of silvery light. I could
only live in that world again if I painted the places I had seen.
Flowers of otherworldly origin. I bowed my head down and cried.
Because I was not allowed to let go any more. And strangely because
the self that desired life was burning with new things that wanted
to be embraced in the morning light. Marcia of course. As well as
painting…. but that was always ambivalent. I was choosing life. I
choose it not because I had lost my capacity to desire the beyond;
but because I had the freedom, of this place. Its peace…. to give
me a space to decide. Not for you to say…. Not for you to decide. I
was choosing freely….to live. I put my hands over my face smelling
the earth. It was fragrant and intoxicating. I wanted to drink in
that scent forever. I wanted to go to the world on the other side
of the curtain. I was aching to go and see….